blogs – Lorraine Careyhttp://lorrainecarey.com
Discovering Mysteries, One Story at a Time
Tue, 11 Jun 2019 13:30:53 +0000 en-US
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1 The Last Hurrah ~http://lorrainecarey.com/2018/05/the-last-hurrah/
http://lorrainecarey.com/2018/05/the-last-hurrah/#commentsTue, 08 May 2018 01:06:44 +0000http://lorrainecarey.com/?p=1299I arrived on Grand Cayman kicking and screaming nine years ago on the Fourth of July. It was hard to leave my home and family in the states but fate had called my husband and myself to this place with a plan in mind. And without a doubt, I shall depart paradise in the same fashion. I’ve come to love not only the peacefulness here, but also the people who are some of the kindest and loving I have ever known. I’ve grown accustomed to the laid back lifestyle here which has given me a great opportunity to learn patience and gain inspiration to begin a writing career.

Yes, nine glorious years will finally come to an end this June. My husband’s work permit will be up and we will be heading back to the states to reside in Florida.

With that said, we have been trying to visit every favorite place of ours on the island before we leave.

We’ve made a lot of memories here and that is what will sustain us for the rest of our lives.

With hubby working all these years, I’ve had the pleasure playing tourist every time family has come to visit. I will be entertaining our last set of company here this week, and will be doing the ‘tour de Cayman’ with them for the last time.

Probably two of my favorite spots are Rum Point and Smith’s Cove. I’ve got plenty of sunset pictures to last a lifetime.

We enjoyed our last Pirate’s Week and Carnival immensely. I had to laugh when we visited Treasure Island and there were statues of pirates in various places around town. I’ve heard they also have a Pirate’s Week. Guess I’ll feel right a home.

We all have lots of last times in our lives: the last kiss, the last summer night, the last dance, last family reunions and countless others. Nothing lasts forever and if we had no last times, then there wouldn’t be a place and time for new beginnings. So, cherish those lasts and leave them as just that. Look forward to new beginnings and new chapters in life.

So this ‘Island Girl’ will leave Grand Cayman and arrive on Treasure Island in Florida. Treasure Island is a small resort city that sits on a barrier island west of St. Petersburg. It’s known for its beaches and boardwalk. I know it won’t be anywhere near the caliber as Cayman but heck—I still get to live on an island, only much smaller.

So, June 28 I’ll be catching the last plane out, sitting at my window seat and watching the lights fade away in the distance from this magical place.

“Ariana is a 17-year-old student, popular among humans, hated by animals and with almost zero interest for boys. Her relationships always came out of boredom, and it was all because a dream she had since childhood. A dream about a man covered by shadows who protects her from flames.

Michael was forced to live in the jungle for a long time, having only the company of his carer. After many years he returned to the civilized world. He enrolled in high school and is trying to lead a normal life. He did not expect to make any friends, as the dark rumors around him appear from the second day of school, but Ariana is ready to accept him for who he is, without batting an eye.

Ariana is intrigued by his wild eyes, and not only. He also seems to hide a very sweet disposition behind that wildness.

Or so she thought…

Excerpt~

“The whole class began to murmur at the news, which honestly meant nothing to me. With my mind miles away to my mysterious boy from the lake and what I thought I saw in the hallway, I was looking at the blackboard, but I wasn’t actually paying much attention … until he walked in. My thoughts combined with the image in front of my eyes, analyzing him from head to toe, finding similarities and differences. He was tall and athletic, with brunette hair partially covered by the hood of his jacket and his wild eyes fixed at a point in the back of the class. His defensive yet defiant posture, with his hands in his pockets and his head slightly tilted, made our teacher cough theatricaly, disapproving.

..

The parallel worlds I lived in started to collide when he sat at the empty desk in front of me. The person in my mind and the one in front of my eyes became one. I looked around at my classmates, but none of them was looking at him directly, not even the teacher; they clearly saw him as some kind of troublemaker and they were looking to stay as far away from him as possible. I smiled, though he couldn’t see me, because now my mysterious boy from the lake had a name … Michael.”

Excerpt ~

After a few minutes, Michael came back and dropped to his knees in front of me.

“God, are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” I asked him in a hurry.

“You always worry about others. It’s not my blood.”

Strangely, I wasn’t surprised by what I heard. There was a brief pause in which Michael looked at me. Those eyes, the energy he was emanating; it made me feel safe. He was concerned about me.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he asked with a calm voice, though I knew he was scared of the answer.

A Bit about Andreea ~

I was born in 1991, in Bucharest, Romania. (Yes, that Romania where Dracula lives.)

I graduated in 2010 from an art high school but didn’t follow up. My wish was to paint with words, not with colors.

I left my home country in 2015 and moved to the UK, with my husband, where after a lot of work I made my dream come true by publishing my first novel.

Even as a child I was always conjuring up stories and filling them with colorful characters, sharing them with anyone and everyone who would listen. Since then, I have progressed quite a bit to formulating longer and more complex stories and sharing them with much more significant audiences

Now, as a professional Author, I aim to create different worlds where my characters can unveil their true potential — a mission which has cast me in many different roles: author, artist, and creative innovator.

Cecily has always had a huge crush on singer Andrew Holiday and she wants to be an actress, so she tags along when her friend auditions for his new video. However, the director isn’t looking for an actress, but rather the girl next door—and so is Andrew. Cecily gets a part in the video and all of Andrew’s attention on the set. Her friend begins to see red and Cecily’s boyfriend is seeing green—as in major jealousy. A misunderstanding leaves Cecily and her boyfriend on the outs and Andrew hopes to pick up the pieces as he’s looking for someone more stable in his life than the models he’s dated. Soon Cecily begins to realize Andrew understands her more than her small-town boyfriend—but can her perfect love match really be her favorite rock star?

Excerpt 1:

I started to feel anxious after lunch. After all, I had been an Andrew fan for a long time, and even though I had seen him in person, this was a huge deal to get to meet him. What if he wasn’t what I had imagined? I didn’t expect him to fawn over me or anything, but what if he was rude or ignored me? It would kill my fantasy of him as being this sweet, quiet, sensitive songwriter who wore his heart on his sleeve while also being kind of a loner/rebel with just a touch of bad boy in him. Oh man, I would be crushed if he didn’t notice me or worse—if he ended up flirting with Harlow.

In all his magazine interviews Andrew always said looks weren’t important to him, and what he noticed in a girl was if she was true to herself. He said he went for “bright girls who were sweet and easy to be with.” Now that I thought about it, that was the kind of fake crap magazines put out about all the teen celebrities. It was like when I saw Lawrence Claibourne, my favorite actor who claimed to be Mr. I’m-just-looking-for-a-sweet-girl-to-read-poetry-to on a red carpet with a model whose boobs were falling out of her dress and had overdone the lip fillers—I mean, you just knew he wasn’t into her for her personality. But Andrew wasn’t like Lawrence. Andrew seemed so sincere and deep. Lawrence had a smirk and you could tell he was a player, but Andrew seemed like he had been hurt and needed to find the right girl who he could open up to and learn to trust again. . .or at least that’s what he said in his last interview.

The final bell rang and my heart shot up to my throat. This was it. I was on my way to meet my crush. From now on, any dreams of him would be marred by the reality I was about to face.

Was it better to keep wondering what if and keep the fantasy alive or to go and actually meet him?

Excerpt 2:

Okay, if I wanted to do a good job in this music video then I had to become this character and

show how she and Andrew were soulmates who would recognize each other just by walking by.

Andrew got into position and the director yelled, “Action.”

Andrew and I began to walk toward one another. He glanced away from me and then right as we got closer, he gave me an intense, longing stare which almost took my breath away. I lost all focus and forgot what I was supposed to do. It was like time was standing still and we were the only two people in the world.

“Cut!” Dimitri said. “Perfection. You absolutely nailed the look, Cecily. Let’s try it again, but this time the focus will be on Andrew’s angle.”

My face felt warm as I walked back on my mark to go again. How did I get my look so perfect when I hadn’t done anything intentional? Andrew’s gaze had been so overwhelming I had forgotten everything I was meant to do. Then it hit me—my look hadn’t been an act. Whatever I did in the scene was how I actually felt in the moment and if Dimitri said it was the perfect look then it meant I must have been showing my true feelings for Andrew. How embarrassing! Did people think I was acting or was my stupid kiddie crush apparent to everyone now? Andrew would probably take the security guys aside and tell them there was a stalker present and to quietly escort me off the premises without making a scene. The whole crew would laugh over how the dumb star struck kid got caught up in her obsession with the pop star. I never should have done this. At least before I had the fantasy, now Andrew was aware of my existence and instead of remembering the connection we had earlier, he’d see me as just another fan.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Krysten Lindsay Hager writes about friendship, self-esteem, fitting in, frenemies, crushes, fame, first loves, and values. She is the author of True Colors, Best Friends…Forever?, Next Door to a Star, Landry in Like, Competing with the Star,Dating the It Guy, and Can Dreams Come True? True Colors, won the Readers Favorite award for best preteen book and the Dayton Book Expo Bestseller Award for childen/teens. Competing with the Star is a Readers’ Favorite Book Award Finalist.

*** Krysten’s work has been featured in USA Today, The Flint Journal, the Grand Haven Tribune, the Beavercreek Current, the Bellbrook Times, Springfield News-Sun, Grand Blanc View, Dayton Daily News and on the talk show Living Dayton.

What people are saying about Can Dreams Come True?

“It’s a great story of romance, and pursuing dreams, but also finding out who you truly are.”- Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews

“Most teenage girls I know of develop a crush on a pop star or two. This book is perfect in bringing to fruition the imagination of millions. The book was really well done.”– Writing Pearls

“I just loved the story and the love that built between Andrew and Cecily. I was hooked to the book from the start to the end.” -Hasanthi’s Book Blog – totalbooklover

“I absolutely loved it and the love that grew between Cecily and Andrew was really pivotal and truly romantic. I think a lot of young girls will be able to relate to Cecily.” -Janet Greaves

]]>http://lorrainecarey.com/2018/03/author-krysten-lindsay-hagar-releases-a-new-ya-series/feed/2A Different View of Death in the Eyes of a Poet ~http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/a-different-view-of-death-in-the-eyes-of-a-poet/
http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/a-different-view-of-death-in-the-eyes-of-a-poet/#respondSun, 19 Nov 2017 13:37:59 +0000http://lorrainecarey.com/?p=1214

A Bit About Curt A. Rivard Sr.~

My name is Curt A. Rivard Sr. I am a writer and a performer of Love, Death, Biblical and Psychotic poetry. As odd as that combination may seem to someone, I feel that all my different styles of poetry are a true reflection of who I am inside as I express myself in an attempt to explain all that I witness through a certain sequence of letters and words in a rhyming order.

I was born in New London, CT. in 1969. At the age of 7, I can retrace the steps of writing poetry for the very first time. It wasn’t until 1992 when I was 23 years old that I then picked up the pen again and started to write a private collection of love poems for a very special and beautiful person in my life. After twenty-five years and five wonderful children together I still write with purposeful intent for them.

In 2012 I started to work and study an internship in a funeral home. That is when my Death, Biblical and Psychotic poetry was born. Most of my death poetry was written while gazing upon the deceased as they lay ever so peaceful during the early morning hours between 1-3 AM after I had assisted with the

Embalming method.

I consider myself a one of a kind poet who has come up with the idea of writing and selling my poetry backwards, (masking), requiring the reader to hold the poem up to a mirror to read. My custom works are written on 110 index cotton-lined paper. I use a vintage glass nib-dipping pen, which I dip in a special mix of embalming fluid, aloe and myrrh. This idea came to me after reading John

Later in 2012, I started to attend any open mic poetry events around and it was then I knew I had the gift to perform my poetry to crowds. Shortly thereafter I took on the persona (alter ego, Dr. Simon Barr Frost) and started to walk into live open mic events dressed up in disguise as a plague doctor with a mask, which helped keep my true identity a total secret from everyone.

On 12-12-12, I wrote a poem called Anubis My Pet. The inspiration for my poem Anubis My Pet began with looking at an advertisement in a copy of the Red Book (A directory of over 50,000 funeral homes in the USA, Canada and Mexico) and how I saw Anubis bending over a mummy preparing it for the afterlife. I wanted the same treatment and reward when my time should arrive in return for all the care that I had given to each and every person who I’d helped prepare for their journey. It was my original intentions to only release my death poetry to any funeral director who listed an e-mail address in the Red Book and if so, I would then send them a complete digital copy of my works along with my resume and my Bio. My intentions were to also ask each funeral director for $10.00 for the complete collection of 100+ poems in hopes that they would enjoy and also help fund me so I could continue my education in Mortuary Science (something I still am passionate about and want to finish).

Anubis My Pet ~

Anubis the ruler of the underworld carries vast ancient fame
And today, I’m his next opponent in his weighing game.
Lying spine to spine his prep room table was cold,
Made out of a lion’s carcass it was formed from pure gold.
I’m in his arena with a sold out crowd,

They are all the God’s, its judgments day for me
I know all the rules

I know how to play and what is expected of thee.
He makes his way into the lecture hall

Standing so rigid and ever so tall
Scale in one hand, his pure gold scepter staff in the other
Helping him walk so he don’t fall for he then would have to drop to all fours and crawl
Hearing his heavy breathing coming all the more closer
We now meet face to face

I’m not afraid I am content in his place
Confident he looks to his audience, to the left and to the right
To the balcony he then looks next, then to me suddenly with a death fright
For upon my lifeless body he saw a chain bearing charms in the shape of an urn
Fifty molded in sterling, representing all my subject’s I had to embalm while earning my internship
All around my chain they hung forever

I carried them like they were my gang.
Cold wet pressing snout I feel it on my neck looking for my major one

He can’t find it,

What the heck?
The Jackal’s ear is now on my chest

He’s not given up just yet

For he is no one’s pet
When we are done today he will lick my hands, wag his tail and be mine forever, I will bet
No pounding sounds of my drum

He takes his scepter to open my mouth
Then sees verses and powerful words writing on my tongue
Able to speak, breath and eat

I offer him everything I learned as a treat
Murmuring and shouting from the belly of Ammit they shout in rage
“Weigh his heart and do your part, you done it to all of us and right from the start”
Under duress he had no choice

Then came the cutting open of my chest and out the opening he heard a voice
Eyes were amazed and his canine senses were all in disarray

Because in my body my heart did not stay
Paws went digging in like looking for his buried bone

Suddenly he had a much different tone
Because the only thing he found in me was a feather

Now he’s wishing he had left me alone
Have no fear; I am just the same, I am here to help avenge

That’s how my heart turned into a feather
Because I write with passion I write with respect

I write for the ones you had already met
Upon the scale, it is weighed and lighter than thou

This can’t be right he now thinks somehow
A riddle is then placed upon me before forever death is on my lips asking me just how?
I answered him and told him that when I write

I write with a feather, I write from the heart
And in my ink well I put a drop of embalming fluid so forever my words would be preserved
For all the ones I had already served.
No need for a recalibration I won

Then I was welcomed to a grand celebration.
Given eternal passage to my afterlife he quickly asked me for my parting autograph

And in return he gave me his golden scepter staff

I WILL RETURN!!!!!!

Final Thoughts ~

My never-ending work in progress Last Poem and Testament (A Memoir of Moods and Madness) can be found on the Internet. Simply Google my name and using the Hello Poetry link provided. I am also currently working on a few other projects, The Longest Hour,Poems Inspired by the Bible, and also having great fun re-writing Dante’s, The Divine Comedy and following his entire unique original one of kind rules.

In closing, it is my hopes that you enjoy my poetry as much as I did writing them and with the 100k reads to date, I thank you all also very much.

PS “Hey what can I say, but I always do say, Welcome to the Show!”

Till Later,

Curt A. Rivard Sr.

(2017)

For artwork piece~

(Custom Anubis artwork done by “IZZY” from Egypt, who I had the great pleasure of meeting and sharing my vision with and in return we together produced a masterpiece).

]]>http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/a-different-view-of-death-in-the-eyes-of-a-poet/feed/0Author Chris Weigand Releases New Book for Junior Readers!http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/author-chris-weigand-releases-new-book-for-junior-readers/
http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/author-chris-weigand-releases-new-book-for-junior-readers/#respondTue, 07 Nov 2017 12:11:49 +0000http://lorrainecarey.com/?p=1191A Blurb from Sir Robert E. Smythe and the Lost Detective~

Can Sam overcome his anger to welcome Zoe and aid in the establishment of a homeless shelter in the community?

During summer vacation, while Anna and her brother Ben along with Bridget and her brother, Sam are participating in the Summer Reading Adventure at the local library the town council announces that they are building low income housing for the homeless. While the housing is being constructed a tent community has been established on an old soccer field on the other side of a haunted swamp. Sam is upset by this turn of events, but his anger is only beginning.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to them, the girls befriend Zoe, one of the homeless people living in the tents. The girls spend time together tracking down clues supplied by the books they are borrowing from the library that will eventually lead to a prize at the end of the Summer Reading Adventure.

When Bridget and Sam’s grandfather dies in a tragic car accident Sam’s anger increases it is discovered that Zoe’s father was the drunk driver in the truck that crashed into grandfather’s car. The family lawyer reveals in the will that the farm and house have been left to the community to build low income housing for the homeless.

Sam’s anger reaches a boiling point and he directs it at Zoe and hatches a plan to get back at the people he thinks are taking away everything he holds dear.

An Excerpt From The Lost Detective ~

“All right. Love you mom.” Zoe kissed her mom on the cheek and ran back to the camp.

She found the book on her cot in the tent and started to head back to the park. Passing the swamp she noticed Morton the Morph, the yellow toad like creature and his small blue pear shaped panngoes playing on the edge of the swamp. One of the panngoes bounced into the swamp.

“Hey, you guys shouldn’t go in there,” Zoe yelled.

“Oh don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine, just a bunch of panngoes,” Morton answered as more of the creatures bounced into the swamp.

Zoe heard some dogs barking and one of the panngoes squealing. “One of them might be hurt. Shouldn’t you go in there and check on them.” She heard another sound, children talking and laughing. “Oh no someone’s coming. I have to hide. Mamma doesn’t want me to talk to any strangers.” The swamp would be the best place to hide, so she followed the panngoes into the swamp.

One of the bigger ones had fallen in a hole and was calling out for the others to help him. Zoe followed the sound of the crying.

****

Sam stomped through the kitchen door of their two-story house. “Some animal dumped the trash cans again. Why does it only happen on the days I have to take out the trash?” He snarled as he grabbed a trash bag and a pair of rubber gloves.

“Sam, stop your complaining and get it done. We’re supposed to be meeting Hunter and Anna to go to the park for the Reading Club kick-off,” his sister, Bridget said.

“Yeah, I’d rather head over to the Gullies Swamp soccer field for a quick game of soccer. I’m sure Hunter would too. I’m too old for the reading club.”

“Well, you can’t do that.” Sam’s dad said. “Didn’t you see today’s paper? They voted to take that field on the other side of Gullies Swamp and turn it into a homeless community while they build some low cost housing for the homeless.”

“Why the heck are they doing that?” Sam said. “Where am I supposed to play soccer?”

“The high school field is open and the new field at the park.” Bridget answered.

“But we always play at the Gullies Swamp fields.”

“Well I think those fields are creepy. You have to go past the haunted swamp.” Bridget said.

“It’s not haunted.” Sam said.

“But you told me…”Bridget said.

“Bridget, how many times have I told you not to listen to your brother’s stories about the swamp?” Mom said. “He does that just to scare you so you’ll stay away. Sam, finish cleaning up the trash so you can take your sister to the library.”

Sam grabbed the broom and stomped out the door slamming it behind him.

And a bit about author Chris Weigand ~

Christina Weigand’s a writer, wife, and mother of three grown children and a teenage daughter. She is also Nana to four granddaughters. She lives with her husband and youngest daughter in Pennsylvania after a short sabbatical in the lovely state of Washington. She has three published YA Christian Fantasy novels; Palace of the Twelve Pillars: Book One, Palace of the Three Crosses: Book Two and Sanctuary of Nine Dragons: Book Three. She also has a woman’s Bible study Women of the Bible: A Study published. Recently the first two books in a MG Fantasy series was published, Sir E. Robert Smythe and the School Bully and Sir E. Robert Smythe and the Lost Detective with the remaining four to be published over the next year and a half. Through her writing she strives to share the Word of God and help people young and old to realize the love and mercy He has for everyone.

When she’s not writing she’s active in her local Church as a lector, Bible Study, and helping children develop a love for reading and writing. Jesus fills her home with love as she shares Him through her writing.

Get the Book ~

]]>http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/11/author-chris-weigand-releases-new-book-for-junior-readers/feed/0My Babysitter Was a Loaf of Italian Bread and a Few Movie Classics ~http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/05/my-babysitter-was-a-loaf-of-italian-bread-and-a-few-movie-classics/
http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/05/my-babysitter-was-a-loaf-of-italian-bread-and-a-few-movie-classics/#respondSat, 13 May 2017 20:43:50 +0000http://lorrainecarey.com/?p=1156My youngest daughter is visiting for Mother’s Day and had reminded me of some of the finer moments from her childhood. Well, maybe not so fine, but funny none the least.
Now mind you, things were a bit simpler back in the eighties. Children did not have all of the electronic devices available today to amuse themselves.

I had two young girls who were the pickiest eaters on the planet! And my youngest daughter would only eat a few things, and that was it. I was tired of forcing both of them to eat different foods, hearing the cries and spending time with the pediatrician with these concerns. I once forced my youngest daughter to finish a piece of broccoli during dinner. Turns out the next morning she had fallen asleep with the tiny florets in her mouth! I knew at that point, I was not going to play that card again.

The pediatrician had told me to let them eat what they like. So I followed his advice, much to the dismay of other family members.

Both girls loved to snack on the fresh loaf of crusty Italian bread when I got home from the store. They were picky about their beverages also. They did drink lots of water, so it was their drink of choice, and luckily it was a healthy one. So much for their ‘Prison Diet’! LOL~

My husband and I had managed to reserve Saturday nights as our special date night. I made sure to have purchased fresh loaves of Italian bread from the bakery and have the girls’ favorite movies on hand. The babysitter knew the drill each time; setting out a fresh loaf for each of them – yes, they each got their own loaf. No judgments here – please. They’d love to tear apart those warm pieces as they watched their favorite movies. It was not uncommon for my girls, ages five and ten to watch Hello Dolly, Gone With the Wind, and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at least a few times a week along with other older musicals.

My daughter and I did have a good laugh reminiscing this past week.

Was I classified as a bad mom? I don’t think so, but some may beg to differ. Too many judgments today on parenting. Did my daughters grow up with poor eating habits? Quite the contrary. I can tell you that both of them are in top shape as grown adults. They work out on a regular basis and eat very healthy.

However, the tables have turned, and mom is now the one who is addicted to bread among other various carbs. Since I don’t watch TV, I do buy the smaller crusty loaves of bread and nibble on them when I write. I take it one step further by slathering on real butter.

And I have been reminded by both of them about making better choices with my snacking. But the good news is I do drink my water throughout the day.

So during my daughter’s ten day stay here on the island she has been getting me up at 6 a.m. to go walking and being vigilant with steering me toward a healthier eating and exercise plan. We are enjoying watching the old classics at night. Last night we watched, Bad Moms. We raised the bar a bit with our snack choice and nibbled on Bruschetta and a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Happy Mother’s Day~

]]>http://lorrainecarey.com/2017/05/my-babysitter-was-a-loaf-of-italian-bread-and-a-few-movie-classics/feed/0Three Days, Three Uber Drivers, One Book~http://lorrainecarey.com/2016/09/three-days-three-uber-drivers-one-book/
http://lorrainecarey.com/2016/09/three-days-three-uber-drivers-one-book/#commentsSat, 10 Sep 2016 14:16:37 +0000http://lorrainecarey.com/?p=1107With a manuscript in progress for a new adult book, my co-author and I decided to ramp up our writing process and check into the Hilton Hotel in Miami for three days, lock ourselves in and get this book finished!

We had been working via Skype prior to this time. We’d never met in person until now. We were well into our second month on the book and decided this would be the ticket to help us finish the book.

So Becky Robbins, my co-author, flew down from Virginia to Miami. For myself it was only an hour flight from Grand Cayman.

When we met for the first time it was like we’d known each other for a lifetime. We had very similar interests and what was even spookier was we finished each other’s sentences.

We came fully armed with a hefty supply of snacks ready to keep us sustained and happy. We’d planned this for weeks. We were taking this writing intensive ‘Lock Down’ session very seriously.

The first day we cancelled our maid service wanting to work uninterrupted. We ordered room service and burned the daylight and midnight oil. We told ourselves we’d treat ourselves to a night in South Beach if we met our goal. We felt that was a righteous reward.

Being first-time Uber customers we didn’t quite know what to expect. Ernesto, our first driver was a young Cuban man who played Latin dance music and had us dancing in the car along with him. We were already pumped by the time we arrived in South Beach. Gotta love men with a beat.

Our second driver was probably the one who blew us away. She was our return driver from South Beach and a young mother from Haiti who told us she could sing. She ended up singing an Alicia Keys song. We both had chills. She was beyond fantastic! It was just the inspiration we needed to get us back to the room and do more writing.

Day two was pretty much a repeat of day one. We buckled down and were making headway with finishing our first revision on our book. We did opt for maid service out of necessity but had to make a wine and chocolate run. This is where our third Uber driver came in.

Fernando spoke no English at all, and we had given him the wrong directions to a CVS. Poor guy had taken us to some industrial park far from our hotel. We were trying to tell him the right address but he was so upset he decided to put on some Country music and at a very loud tone at that. We both kept telling him to turn it down, but the communication was not there. I think he somehow thought the music would calm us down. We were fine. It was him who became overly agitated and frustrated with the directions. Becky and I began to think we’d be dumped off right there and have to hitchhike back to the hotel. We finally made it to the CVS and our driver had calmed down. Of course he did appreciate the bag of candy we handed him.

That evening was spent in our pajamas, ordering room service and of course working amidst the snacks, covered plates and candy wrappers strewn across our beds. We could say our writing intensive was nothing short of a grown up ‘Sleep Over’. We cried, laughed and shared some deep secrets.

Did we meet our goal? Well, maybe not, but we sure did come up with some great ideas for better content.

It was 11p.m. when we finally settled down and called it a night. We had to rise early and get to the airport the next morning.

Morning found us grabbing for coffee and leftover chocolate as we dragged our weary bodies out of bed. We both agreed we could have used another day. Of course that would mean more Uber drivers and who knew what that would bring?

I have to say this method may not work for everyone but it was the best writing experience I’ve ever had.

We both parted our ways at the airport, shed a few tears and knew we’d not only written a book together, we’d made a long lasting friendship, with or without the added inspiration.